Walking through your old ghost town, in your best suit - your hands dance with an invisible partner. You are not naiive. There is a warm darkness resting comfortably atop the highest peaks of the buildings, in its own wakeful roost, shifting to watch you dare approach. Its birthplace was the church you and your lover chose - its incubator was your love. Afraid, you cowered and ran, singular once again. Now, you are no longer afraid, but only wish to dance with your love again. She takes you.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Oct 2013 18:00:33 +0000
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